


Pieces and Partitions

by bunniesslaughtered



Series: Fragments [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Multiple Personalities, Pre-Canon, Project Freelancer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6798073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunniesslaughtered/pseuds/bunniesslaughtered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Great War is coming to an end, but Project Freelancer is just getting started.</p><p>After successfully implanting the new Alpha AI into an agent suffering from a fractured personality, the Director is able to move forward with his experiments.</p><p>Meanwhile, as tensions run higher, Alpha is struggling to keep Agent Arizona's personality fragments under control. He knows there's a solution - it just requires that he partition his own personality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part Two of the Fragments series! If you haven't already, head on over to Part One - Living Fragments. This is a continuation and won't make much sense without reading the first part.
> 
> As always, I welcome all questions and comments! Please let me know if anything doesn't make sense to you, or if you would like to see more or less of a particular element of the story. I have the outline in mind, but I am still writing, so I will respond to your feedback and integrate as I go.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Maine was pissed.

Pissed that someone he regarded as a friend would trick him so callously. Pissed that he let himself be tricked. Pissed that his team was fighting for their lives while he was fucking snoozing in medical.

Not that he had snoozed for long.

When he came around, the first thing he had done was push past the medics and escape medical bay to stuff himself into the closest orbital drop pod he could find. He didn’t like heights. He didn’t like drops. But he hated the idea of his team fighting without him.

Hated the idea of Wash fighting without him.

So he closed the pod door down before anyone could remember that he had been pumped full of bullets just a few weeks prior and tried to lock onto someone’s coordinates, anyone’s coordinates.

He couldn’t. They were out of range.

The _Mother of Invention_ had fucking _left_ the battlefield. The whole goddamn fleet had. Maine could see that when he stormed up to the bridge to demand an explanation conveyed in nothing but an angry growl.

And the Director had the _audacity_ to chide him for his rash behavior. Explained, as though to a child, that this strategy was for the best. That it drew the Covenant armada away from the planet and allowed some of the evacuation ships to clear the atmosphere.

Some.

He asked in a gravelly voice which ships were the biggest problems. There were three destroyers that were causing the most damage. There had been a forth, but it crashed into the Cov’s own base after an apparent navigation failure. An inexplicable stroke of luck. The resulting confusion allowed the UNSC to pull away from the planet.

Three Covenant destroyers, then.

Maine requested three nukes.

Precision and subtlety had never been his strong suits, but complacency in letting his friends fight without him wasn’t exactly in his repertoire either. The Director knew it. Knew there was little point in wasting a weapon.

They lost all contact with the ground team as Maine stuffed himself into a launch pod.

Three destroyed Covenant ships later, they still hadn’t regained it.

And all the Director could tell him was that the team was probably alive. That they had locked themselves in some sort of Forerunner temple, and intercepted Covenant transmissions did not suggest the temple had been penetrated.

Maine didn’t like ‘probably.’

He didn’t like it as the remaining Covenant ships retreated and the UNSC blasted the ground around Tyumen with MAC cannons. Continued to not like it as he climbed into the last Pelican with the few remaining soldiers and dropped planetside. _Really_ didn’t like it as they approached the remains of the temple, or the giant hole that had been blasted in the side of it. Still didn’t like it when they slowly approached the blast site and realized that there were no Covenant on their trackers.

They entered the temple, and Maine was pissed.

Pissed at how few guns had been raised to greet them. Pissed at how Carolina’s voice cracked with exhaustion and relief when she called out “friendlies” and the guns lowered. Pissed at how many of his teammates were collapsed uselessly on the floor or slumped over alien bodies or _not moving_. Pissed that he hadn’t been there to change any of those things.

Wash was hurt. Alive, and joking, but hurt. Maine could tell just by glancing at him, HUD readings be damned. And Maine hadn’t been there.

There wasn’t a lot Maine could do until they could bring medics onto the scene, so he sat by Wash and held him up protectively and didn’t give a damn what anyone wanted to say about that. Wash babbled, and Maine felt just a little bit less pissed and a little bit more relieved. He hadn’t been there, but Wash was alive. And okay enough to be babbling. That was good.

And then Wyoming strolled by and Wash pointed to him and said “that’s the fuck who ran me over with our own car” and Wyoming had hastily tried to placate them with a terrible knock-knock joke, and Maine thought that maybe things would be okay.

Until he realized there was no familiar blue armor following Wyoming. He looked at Wash, who understood his unspoken question even without being able to see his face. And Maine immediately knew from the tiny, almost imperceptible slump in Wash’s shoulders that something was really wrong.

“We…lost track of some of the team,” Wash told him quietly. “There was a problem with some civilians before the Covs broke through, and some of the team left with another squad to handle it, and all I know is that they haven’t come back and Carolina won’t say what’s going on.” He paused, shifting so he was leaning into Maine a little more. “There was a lot of gunfire,” he said after a moment.

That wasn’t good. If civilians and gunfire were both involved, then it was likely the civilians were the ones being fired _at_. But Maine had seen enough war to know that that didn’t necessarily mean the soldiers doing the shooting were in the wrong. Civilians were people. There were good ones and bad ones. There were good ones who did bad things when desperate. Things that sometimes warranted being shot at. The human race was in danger. Sometimes, unpleasant things had to happen to accomplish the greater good. To survive.

While the UNSC understood this, they couldn’t exactly advertise the fact. No one would rally behind an organization that taught their special ops teams when to kill unarmed, relatively defenseless members of their own species. If the incident didn’t blow over or submerge beneath the overall disaster of New Harmony, they would have to find a scapegoat. Punish a few soldiers so the many could continue.

“Who?” Maine asked, and knew that Wash could hear the weight behind the question.

Wash shifted again. He fidgeted when he was uncomfortable, both physically and verbally. “I…um…so, see, it’s a big temple, and, um, there could be – well, that is – no one has proof…”

Maine grabbed the top of Wash’s helmet and turned it to face him. “Who?” he repeated.

Wash deflated. “South and C.T. were last seen on the lower levels of the temple,” he said softly. “Georgia and North were around here when the Covs broke through, but we haven’t seen them since. And, um…Florida and Arizona were with that other squad.”

 _Arizona_. The way Wash said her name let Maine know all he needed to know. The idea of Florida cracking and killing civilians wasn’t necessarily a difficult one to imagine. Maine knew an ONI ghost agent when he saw one, even if Florida was now technically part of Project Freelancer. But Zo wouldn’t do that.

Zo wouldn’t. Agent Arizona might.

How bad had the battle down here gotten? How much could Maine have prevented?

He held onto Wash a little tighter, a tiny part of him glad that Wash was injured enough to give him the excuse. The rookie – his friend – was actually a really good soldier. Maine knew that. Others thought Wash was only good because he worked so well with Maine, but Maine knew, given the opportunity, Wash could probably outlast all of them.

Probably.

Maine didn’t like ‘probably.’

* * *

 

“For the millionth time, I’m fine,” Washington insisted, barely glancing at Maine over the edge of his datapad to read Maine’s unspoken question.

Maine crossed his arms and gave un unconvinced snort, but plopped down onto his own bunk without much of a fuss. That fact alone told Wash that it had been another rough day for the only uninjured Freelancer Agent.

Wash wished he could help. New Harmony left millions dead, hundreds of thousands wounded, and many more thousands missing. The Covenant never did procure whatever artifact they were after, but they had decimated half the planet. The only survivors of Tyumen had been in the temple, and even then, less than a third of the people who entered were alive in the end to leave it. Estimated. They still had to try to extract many of the supposed survivors.

It had been three days, and the UNSC was still sending down rescue parties to bring survivors back to their ships. According to the records and communications Wash was monitoring on his datapad (with proper clearance, of course – he _was_ a special ops agent, he had access to nearly all encrypted communications) there were still several levels of the temple the rescue teams could not get down to. Knowing how close many of the trapped were to dehydration and starvation, they had been stuffing survival kits through whatever holes they could find and hoping the survivors found them.

Wash was fairly certain Maine hadn’t actually slept in those three days. He had been constantly moving between the _Mother of Invention_ and the planet, searching for survivors and helping carry the wounded to evac. And there were a lot of wounded. Military units were, for the most part, going to their own respective ships and a few of the other, larger ships were taking on the civilians. But even with only Freelancer personnel, the _MoI_ didn’t have nearly enough space or staff in the medical bay to tend to every injury, so only those with life-threatening injuries were actually treated by medical staff. Everyone else was gathered around the experimental healing units in the mess hall, waiting for their turn.

Wash was one of the first people to be operated on to reset his hip properly. Though he wasn’t opposed to getting necessary medical attention, he was opposed to being wheeled in ahead of a soldier with a plasma blast through his gut. He told the doctor as much, insisting that he wasn’t critical.

The doctor insisted he was.

And Wash didn’t have the energy to fight back, so let the sedative do its work and woke up the next day in his own bed with a temporarily bandaged York snoozing in the chair beside him. Though they had the equipment to operate on his hip, they apparently didn’t have the space to let him recover in medical bay. His lower half was still covered in armor, locked to act as a brace for his newly aligned hip.

Maine had arrived shortly thereafter and, after scaring away York and checking on Wash’s wellbeing for approximately twelve straight hours (okay, so it was a couple minutes, but Maine sure made it _feel_ like hours), filled him in on the state of the planet’s surface.

The status, Wash had concluded from Maine’s brief descriptions, remained ‘pretty fucked.’ A bomb had apparently gone off in the temple – _how did I not notice that when we were fighting the Covenant?_ – and the blast had sunk a decent portion of the top level. Finding the remaining survivors was becoming more and more difficult.

As of now, assuming the information in the _MoI’s_ database was accurate, about a third of the deployed Freelancer soldiers were still missing, as well as several agents. C.T. and South had made radio contact, at least. They were alive and had found one of the survival kits, so they would remain alive, but they were trapped near the bottom of the temple and had to wait for a while for extraction. Niner had kindly informed them of her position and politely suggested that they provide her with a ship to start transporting people, then even more kindly reminded them that the integrity of their genitals may be at stake should they ignore her request. Wisconsin had also made brief radio contact; he was badly wounded, although Wash didn’t know how badly. His file only read ‘status – assumed critical.’

North, Florida, Georgia, and Arizona were missing. No radio contact, direct or indirect. No messages or status reports from other soldiers who had seen them. The best lead they had was on Georgia, who had been last seen fighting with a Spartan unit that was missing and not recovered. He was assumed to still be with them. There were reports from other soldiers of a purple-clad sniper in the middle levels of the temple, but the reports were hazy at best.

Florida and Arizona seemed to have truly disappeared. Wash had scrutinized all the reports that he could, determined to be useful despite being unable to move from his bed. He had pointed out some of the details that would (hopefully) help locate North and Georgia, and had helped narrow down where remaining survivors were likely holed up depending on where missing persons were last seen, but he couldn’t find anything about the last two Agents.

That, combined with the fact that Carolina had refused to tell them anything back before rescue teams had first arrived, made Wash wonder if they were ever going to return.

He shifted as much as he could to look at Maine. “Rough day?”

Maine grunted, looking up at the ceiling. “Found Wisconsin.”

Wash sat up a little straighter. “Yeah? It’s not updated on his file yet, how –”

“Dead.”

 _Fuck_. “I’m sorry, bud,” he said softly. He chewed on his lower lip, hesitantly, before pulling up Wisconsin’s file. Status was still ‘assumed critical.’ Maybe Maine had made a mistake, or heard it from another soldier?

As if reading his mind, Maine rumbled, “Brought him back myself.”

“Oh.” Wash wasn’t certain what to say to that. He and Wisconsin had never been terribly close, but he was part of their team. Wisconsin liked to sing, even though he wasn’t very good at it. He would wake everyone up for morning drills by happily shouting out lyrics to the latest pop songs. He liked to cut his pancakes into squares before eating them. He tied a little orange ribbon around his wrist before every mission, though he never said why.

Wash’s heart skipped a beat as the realization slowly sunk in. They would never again be woken by the booming, just off-key words of ‘ _baby, baby, you make my heart race faster than any plasma blaster’_ or snatch the curved pancake edges off Wisconsin’s plate. They would never know what the ribbon was for. Wash swallowed. “How…”

“Bled out,” Maine answered, not needing any more clarification from Wash.

 _Bled out._ And Wisconsin had contacted them hours after the Covenant attack ended. If he had survived for that long, that meant his death was slow. Wash tried to not think too hard about how Wisconsin must have realized, at some point, that help wasn’t coming. Must have known that if he just had access to medical supplies, if he had just been able to find some biofoam or even just a roll of gauze and a coagulating agent, if he just…

No. There was no point in dwelling on it. Not right now, not when there were other living agents that still needed help. “I’m sorry, bud,” Wash said. With anyone else, he might have felt the need for more words to accurately convey his actual sympathy. Not with Maine, though.

Maine shrugged, but didn’t say anything. _It happens._

 _Yeah. I guess it does._ Wash frowned as he studied the datapad. New communications were coming through. Rescue teams had opened up a new section of the temple and found a group of survivors, being cared for by…

“Maine,” Wash said suddenly. “I think they found North.”

* * *

 

Arizona was aware that she should not have been aboard the _Mother of Invention._

After what happened the in temple, after the explosion that she maybe sort of had a little bit to do with, after the Covs attacked and Alpha took over and kept fighting in her body, she should not have been alive to return.

And she certain shouldn’t have been released by ONI, who _of course_ managed to pick them up before any of the rescue teams could. ONI wasn’t very happy about some of the decisions she and Florida had made, and people who pissed off ONI didn’t tend to stick around for very long.

But Florida had requested a private audience with the lead investigator, and the next thing she knew they were back aboard their home ship, where the Director told them with some annoyance to go to Secondary Medical.

Secondary Medical was, apparently, the mess hall.

The problem was that medical bay only had a total of fourteen beds, and after the battle on New Harmony, there were a lot more than fourteen people injured. So, as Arizona found out from others on the ship, the medics were forced to do rush jobs, stabilizing the wounded and sending anyone who could still walk back to their own quarters until the soldiers who were aggressively dying could be patched up and rotated out. With plenty of supplies by limited space and even more limited medical personnel, it was the best they could do.

So the cooks had partnered with a handful of medics to turn half the mess hall into a makeshift infirmary. Everyone aboard the ship sent down spare blankets, pillows, even just piles of fatigues – anything to make the wounded a little bit more comfortable. The lounge was stripped of all its couches and recliners, armor processing sent in their padded carts, even the Director pushed his comfortable office chair through the doors and had roughly ordered all experimental healing units sent down.

It was probably the strongest show of comradery she had seen in Freelancer. _Which is really kind of an insult to Freelancer,_ she thought as she sat under the green glow. There were four functioning healing units aboard, and all of them were whirring softly as they worked overtime to heal the crowd gathered beneath them. She didn’t strictly need to be here (okay, well, according to the medics she did, but according to her stomach her Spartan healing enhancements were doing their job, and she could literally eat away her pain), but she had a mission which required her presence in the mess hall.

She stared blankly in the general direction of two soldiers playing a game on a datapad while Alpha honed in on every injured individual, checked their file to see if their injuries had been properly documented (he was weirdly obsessed with systems and protocols, but she supposed that was part of being an AI), and then proceeded to explain exactly why each and every one of them was a complete and utter _fuck_ who deserved every little bump and bruise because none of this would have happened if _he_ had been there and everyone was helpless on their own and Christ, he just had to do _everything_ around here, didn’t he?

She let him ramble, not pointing out the fact that she was also injured despite his presence. She made a point of not pointing it out, though, so he still got the hint, and kindly reminded her that all of her injuries were her fault for not listening to him. Because _he_ was not an idiot, thank you very much.

It was true. He wasn’t an idiot. She suspected that he was actually a hell of a lot more intelligent and calculating than he let on, because taking over a host body wasn’t a laughable feat, and he had successfully taken over hers for nearly an hour when the Covenant broke through. She still wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about that. On the one hand, it was disconcerting that an AI had been able to so completely control her, to the point where she wasn’t even aware of her actions until after the fact. On the other, he had only done it to protect her. She hadn’t been in any condition to fight.

She knew she should go to the Director, to let him know that the AI he had implanted could both jump from host to host _and_ take over host bodies. But…it was Alpha. She trusted Alpha. And it wasn’t like the Director could make copies of him or implant him into other hosts, not as long as he felt like keeping Arizona alive. So she kept her silence.

And accepted Alpha’s insults as he pointed out her questionable mental capacities and her horribly unkempt brainspace. It was how he showed affection.

He scoffed at that. But he didn’t exactly deny it, either. _‘If you’re finished accusing me of affection, your target has arrived.’_

Arizona turned around to where the cooks were loading their fresh supply crates into the kitchens. She still had her helmet on – mostly because it made it easier for Alpha to access ship and personnel records, but a little but because wearing full armor hid exactly how swollen and purple her skin had become – so Alpha used her targeting system to highlight one of the crates on her HUD. _‘In that one. It’s just one crate, so you’ll have to be fast.’_

 _Got it. Thanks._ She stood and approached the cooks, lifting one of the crates (not her target, she couldn’t be too obvious) and carried it to the kitchen.

“Um…Agent? Ma’am?” One of the cooks was looking at her uncertainly. With her armor on, she was actually a little taller than him. “I, um, don’t think you’re supposed to be…um…exerting yourself. Ma’am.” _‘Holy crap, I think the dude is about to piss himself. Must be new, or he would know you’re the_ least _worrying Freelancer to be around.’_

 _Hey. I take minor offense to that._ Arizona shrugged at the cook, which was admittedly both difficult and painful with the extra weight of the crate in her arms. Her many fractured bones were still, in fact, fractured. “Not much else that little Christmas light can do for me,” she said, nodding toward the closest healing unit, “and I’m bored out of my skull.” When he continued to look uncertain, she started pouting. Self-respect be damned, this was too important a mission to fuck up. “Come on…three crates and I swear I’ll go away. Promise.”

The cook chewed uncertainly on his lip, but eventually shrugged in defeat. “Okay. Just…just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Lips are sealed,” she promised. She nodded toward the kitchens. “Do me a favor and keep your buddies from harassing me? You know how us bored Freelancers sometimes punch things on accident.”

He sighed. “Right. Three crates. Then…I’m sorry, Ma’am, but you’ll have to leave.”

“It will be like I never showed up,” she told him lightly, carrying the crate toward the kitchen as he muttered something under his breath and walked away. _‘Real smooth.’_

_It worked, didn’t it?_

_‘That seems to be your standard for everything. You know, even when something technically works, that doesn’t mean it works_ well _. You could, you know, try being a little more self-aware. Or smart. Yeah, actually, let’s just start with that one. Try being smart.’_

 _Thought that’s what you were here for,_ she told him as she approached her targeted crate and lifted it. She carried it toward the kitchen, keeping an eye on her motion trackers. When she reached a relatively secluded corner, she set it down and popped the lid off.

_‘Well, I mean, yeah. But that doesn’t do us much good if you never listen, and you get all bitchy when I try to borrow your motor cortex.’_

_You’re hijacking my own body! It’s really unsettling! So yeah, I’m gonna be bitchy about it._

_‘Look, all I’m saying is we could make a great team if you would just…you know…scoot over and let me run the show. I mean, being in charge is what I’m_ designed _to do. Company in five, by the way.’_

_Five what?_

_‘Seconds. Four.’_

She cursed and quickly grabbed her cargo, stuffing the contraband into her ammo pockets. _This is why you aren’t in charge._

_‘Do you ever use those pockets for ammo? And just duck behind the crate or something, you’ll be fine.’_

She did, waiting for Alpha to give her the all clear before standing up again. _I use my pockets for whatever I need to carry, thank you very little,_ she scoffed at him as she left the kitchen and exited the mess hall, maintaining a casual cadence. Well, as casual as possible with half her skeletal structure still in shambles.

_‘Drama queen.’_

Ignoring Alpha’s commentary on her inner dialogue, she made her way to the barracks. She punched the passcode into a door panel and slipped quietly inside. The common room was only half-lit. She could hear soft snoring from the room on the left, and quiet conversation from the room on the right. Perfect. _North and York first, then._

Their door was open, but both men were lying in bed, so Arizona knocked softly on the doorframe. York sat up first, while North rolled to his side just enough to peak at her past the covers. “Hey.”

“Zo? You’re back?” York said, surprised and a little hesitant. Most of the Freelancers who had seen her since her return acted in much the same way, and she supposed she couldn’t blame them. After all, the last thing she had done in the public eye before New Harmony was rip a guy’s heart out, and then she and Florida got taken in by ONI. She would be suspicious as well. After a moment, York frowned. “Wait, shouldn’t you be in medical or something? Last I heard you broke, like, every bone in your body. And not as a figure of speech.”

She snorted. “Not every bone. Medics told me to sit under a unit for an hour a day. Other than that, I’m just supposed to keep my armor on. Guess it doubles as a full-body cast. Who knew?”

North sat up a little straighter. “Don’t think you’re supposed to be walking around, though,” he said, but he sounded almost like he was chuckling.

She cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, but I can’t run supply acquisition by sitting around, can I?” she pointed out, waiting for his reaction.

_‘You’re so mean.’_

_It’s so easy to bait him, though!_

_‘I know, and it’s fucking hilarious. Just. You know. Kinda mean.’_

“The Director has you going on missions?” North asked incredulously, his signature worry lines wrinkling his face. “That doesn’t seem safe. Maybe I should go talk to Carolina…” He made to get out of bed. Arizona stopped him by nailing him in the face with a Jello cup. To his credit, he probably would have caught it if his arm weren’t encumbered by bandages. “What the…”

“Results of the latest supply acquisition,” she informed him, tossing York his allotted cup.

“How did you manage that?” York asked, successfully snatching his cup out of the air.

“Some of us infiltration specialists are actually good at infiltration.”

York scowled. “Hey,” he protested, but didn’t bother to elaborate. _‘You know York’s lockpicking record is actually a lot better than yours,’_ Alpha pointed out.

 _Yeah, I know. So does he._ “Anyway,” she said aloud, “sorry for the whole…uh…thing with Dr. Murdock.”

North tilted his head to the side a little as York broke into his loot. “Florida showed us the article about what he did,” he said softly. “No one really blames you. It was just…a little unsettling.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I imagine so.”

“Oh, speaking of Florida,” North said. _Oh shit, here it comes._ “What happened to you guys in the temple?”

“Just got separated from the group when the Covs attacked,” she said, completely circumventing the actual question. “Anyway,” she said before North could clarify, “I have precious cargo to deliver, and I have to do so before Maine gets back. Pretty sure I’m on his kill list right now for keeping him out of the ground battle. Gotta get people in a good mood before he finds me. I want a stirring eulogy.”

North rolled his eyes, but York put a hand over his heart and looked toward the ceiling. “Agent Arizona. She lived as she died – using blatant bribery to cover her many failures. Her delicious manipulations will never be forgotten. She was a true Freelancer – bitchy, underhanded, a complete pain in the ass…”

“Oh, stop it, York, I’m gonna cry,” she responded dryly as York winked. She pointed at him. “Don’t steal Wash’s jello. I’ll know.”

His eyes widened in innocence. “I would never do such a thing.”

“You always do stuff like that,” North reminded him.

“I will set Maine on you if you so much think about it,” Arizona warned him as she backed out. She paused. “Uh, Maine isn’t…um…here, right?”

North grinned and shook his head. “Thanks, Zo,” he said as she left and slipped quietly into Washington and Maine’s room.

Wash was asleep on his bed, only a small tuft of hair visible. The rest of his body was hidden under covers. It took her a moment to realize that his bottom half must have still been in armor from the way the covers rose awkwardly halfway down his body. _For his hip. Right._

She carefully picked her way toward the little stand next to Wash’s bed and set several cups on it. Maine would steal it if she only left one. Actually, she was sort of planning on Maine stealing one. He deserved something nice for a change.

They all deserved something nice for a change.


	2. Fractured

Alpha hated to admit it to himself, but he actually liked the thefts.

He liked it because it gave him something to do. Because it usually led to long lines of banter with Arizona, and he got sort of lonely sometimes so he liked it when she talked to him directly. He liked the feeling of working together as a team, breaking the rules just because they could. It reminded him of being with Beta.

But mostly, he liked it because it kept Arizona’s mind focused on something besides her friends.

Not that he didn’t like Arizona’s friends. He did. Though he could not interact with them directly, the secondary positive impulses he received when Arizona talked to them were nice. And while he had been able to watch them when he was running the _MoI,_ it was different observing them through an actual human brain. It was a lot more personal. And he could even influence the interactions by asking Arizona to say something specific, or by subtly bringing a topic to the forefront of her mind.

They were almost his friends. Almost.

But the problem was that those interactions caused a lot of strain on Arizona’s mind. _She_ didn’t necessarily realize it, because Alpha was awesome and fucking good at his job, but the personality he had pieced together for her was, at times, a little…tenuous. Her aspects were still alive and well. And although he was able to bridge the gaps and allow them to communicate with one another, it wasn’t always easy. There were a _lot_ of impulses to keep up with, and in the instances where heavy communication was necessary, it got to be a little draining.

Not that he couldn’t keep up with it. He could. Obviously.

But it really helped to have a clear objective. Something Logic and Discontent could hone in on, or even Aggression, rather than Happiness (who wasn’t that difficult to control, just really fucking annoying) or Fear (even more annoying, and a hell of a lot louder), or, if things got really bad, Passion. Fuck Passion. Seriously.

Which is why when Arizona gave him a very annoyed mental eye roll at their current predicament, an eye roll that came mostly from Discontent, he couldn’t have been happier.

 _‘Hey, you’re the one who decided the whole goddamn team needs a daily jello fix,’_ he reminded her.

_ Would you stop being an asshole and start watching the  _ fucking trackers?

_‘Bitch,’_ he told her fondly as he complied. Oh. Yeah. Okay, maybe he should have been focusing more energy on their situation and a little less on angsty introspection. _‘Uh, you’re pretty well blocked in.’_

There was silence for a moment as Arizona brought the information up in her HUD herself. She sighed. _Fucking great._

_‘Hey, look up.’_

_ What? _

_‘Did I fucking stutter? Look up at the ceiling!’_ The other difficult part about being in Arizona’s brain? She wasn’t the brightest.

 _I heard that. What are you looking for, anyway, it’s just a plate of…metal…oh._ Ahhhhh, she finally joined the party. Maybe he was fixing this wreck of a brain after all. _Oh, shut up and turn on the grav boots._

And so it was that he and Arizona escaped the store room for the mess hall by walking across the ceiling.

York was waiting for them in the hallway outside, having taken it upon himself to be her lookout. Alpha thought he just wanted to show her that he could do infiltration tasks, too, which Arizona had laughed at and suggested that maybe York actually wanted to help. Whatever. Arizona was better at it anyway.

_ Oh, my. Alpha, I think you just leaked a compliment. _

_‘Really? Pretty sure I didn’t.’_

_ Kinda sounded like you did. _

_‘No, you didn’t let me finish my thought! It was going to be ‘Arizona is better_ BECAUSE _I’m here. If York had an AI he would kick your ass.’_

_ No. _

_‘Look, I can show you the numbers. You only have a lower detection rating if there aren’t_ locked doors _anywhere along the way, and even then, that’s only in alien structures.’_

_ Wait. So you’re saying I remain undetected in alien structures, just not human ones? _

_‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.’_

_ Um. Okay. I don’t know if anyone told you this, Alpha, but we’re actually fighting aliens. Not humans. _

Alpha gave a long, frustrated ‘aauuuuugh’ and threw his mental head back in exasperation. _‘You are determined to make it seem like you’re better, aren’t you? Look, it’s the truth. If York had an AI, all the statistics say he would be a much better infiltration specialist than you are.’_

 _No,_ she insisted, _he wouldn’t._

_‘Seriously!? What the hell makes you think–‘_

_ The AI wouldn’t be you. _

She said it so simply, with such honesty, that Alpha was actually rendered speechless.

* * *

 

It was two full weeks after the battle of New Harmony ended that South and C.T., along with the last few PFL soldiers, were finally extracted from the remains of the temple and returned to the _Mother of Invention._

Three hours later, they were jumping into slipspace.

“New Harmony was one of our largest crop-producing planets.” Arizona focused intently on the targets in front of her, trying very hard not to look like she was listening to Carolina trying to calm down Georgia. “We _have_ to go to Harvest. We can’t afford to lose another farm planet.”

“We didn’t even _try_ to bury them!” Georgia screeched. _Pop-pop-pop._

“We don’t have–” _Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop._ Whatever Carolina said was drowned out by Arizona’s rifle. She didn’t normally lay so heavily on the trigger. But she also didn’t normally have to try so hard not to be part of intensely private conversations happening in the middle of the training room.

Georgia let out a dry sob. “You know that’s not true,” he said. He sounded like he wanted to shout and cry and whisper all at the same time.

“It is tr – Georgia! Georgia, get back here!” But Carolina may as well have been shouting at the wall. “Dammit!” she hissed, punching the wall instead.

Arizona exchanged a silent glance with Florida. The training room had been getting more and more crowded as soldiers and agents alike were cleared for duty. Lately, unless a specific exercise was scheduled, the room was set up as an open shooting range. It was large enough that the soldiers mostly stayed on one side of the room and the Freelancers on the other, but the argument between Carolina and Georgia had been loud enough to attract the attention of both.

It was about Delaware. Everyone knew it, even if neither Georgia nor Carolina brought her up directly. It was about the fact that Delaware’s body couldn’t be retrieved, that she had been so thoroughly incinerated when the Pelican blew up that her recovery beacon never even went off. It was about the fact that they were leaving New Harmony before giving her or Wisconsin a funeral, or even a quiet goodbye.

It wasn’t easy for any of them, but that was war. Not everyone came back. You didn’t always get to say goodbye.

Arizona straightened and lowered her gun as York cautiously approached Carolina. She normally would just shrug him off, but this time she let him hold her hand, in view of the entire training room. North and South were sitting next to each other, waiting for one of the courses to open up. They were talking quietly, leaning toward one another, without even a hint of bickering. Hell, even Wyoming had put a hold on his terrible jokes, choosing instead to have a normal conversation with C.T.

“I think I’m done for the day,” she told no one in particular.

Florida gave her a sidelong look. “My door is always open if you need to talk,” he told her.

She nodded, but didn’t say anything in return, opting instead to deposit her gun on the rack and quietly leave the training room. Florida was a nice enough guy, despite being kind of creepy and very murder-y. But he wasn’t who Arizona needed right now.

 _‘You sure you want to do this?’_ Alpha asked quietly as she reached the barracks. He had been notably silent from the moment Georgia entered the training room and demanded to know why they were leaving.

 _Yes._ She could hear voices on the other side of the door. Well, one voice and one heavy set of footsteps. They were both awake. She keyed in the passcode.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Maine and Wash froze as she stepped into their room. Wash was still not cleared for duty, although he was able to move around within his room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching Maine pace. “Zo?”

“I didn’t do it for you,” she repeated, looking directly at Maine. It was the first time they had spoken since she returned from New Harmony. He had been spending most of his time with Wash, and she hadn’t figured out how she wanted to approach him. But seeing the Freelancers in the training room falling so far from their normal routines…she couldn’t put it off any longer. “And I’m not going to say I’m sorry.”

_‘Um, what are you doing?’_

She ignored Alpha and continued. “You were injured. I don’t care what you say, or what you ended up doing once we left. You were nearly torn in half by a turret just a few weeks prior, and you weren’t moving well.”

Maine growled and finally interrupted. “It was fine.”

“It wasn’t,” she said simply, crossing her arms. Wash was looking between them like a kid watching his parents fight. “We can’t move you, Maine. We aren’t physically strong enough to lift you, not if you’re completely out. You’re too heavy. But do you think for one second that Wash or I wouldn’t _try?_ ” She paused, letting the message sink in. “No one walked out of that temple unscathed. No one. I know you’ve been beating yourself up over these stupid what-if’s, because that’s what you _do._ What would have happened if you had been there? I can fucking _tell_ you what would have happened.”

“Zo,” Washington said weakly, but she shot him a look, and he fell silent.

“You would have been hit. Don’t try to deny it, you are too big of a target and you were moving too slowly, because you were still _recovering_. You would have been hit, and then Wash would have been killed trying to do something stupidly heroic to save you. And then Wyoming and Florida and I would have followed. You know why? Because we are fucking sick of watching kids die.”

“I’m not–”

“You found Wisconsin.” Arizona pushed forward, ignoring Wash’s protest, not caring that Maine’s face was growing paler and paler with every word. “You brought back his body, so you must have seen him. Shrapnel wound. I know, because I saw him get hit. He could have lived. You know why he didn’t?”

Washington looked like he wanted to throw himself between Arizona and Maine. He was looking at her like she was firing actual bullets into the room, instead of harsh truths. Maine swallowed. “He bled out,” he whispered.

“That’s how he died. Not why.”

_‘Zo, please, stop.’_

_No._

_‘Come on, Zo, what’s the point?’_

_They need to hear this._ “Wisconsin died because he went after North. He _left_ his team, left the people who could have saved him, because North fell through a hole in the ground and Wisconsin decided that he didn’t want to watch a kid die. And yes,” she said, turning her attention to Wash, “I know North’s not exactly a kid. He’s, what, twenty-three? Wisconsin was almost forty. You try to tell me he didn’t think of North like a son.” It was true. Wisconsin had been in charge of training the newest sniper, and at some point, North had helped fill the void left by the death of Wisconsin’s _actual_ son.

“And now Wisconsin is dead. Delaware is dead. And this team is reeling so hard, I don’t know if we’ll ever really get back on our feet. Now, where do you think we would be if we had lost one of you? If we had lost both of you?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. It wasn’t really supposed to be dramatic; she just had a lump in her throat that made volume difficult. “So I’m not going to say I’m sorry. I stand by what I did. I’m just…”

She had been staring both of them down the entire time, refusing to break eye contact, but now she felt suddenly exposed. She averted her eyes. “The war was supposed to be over by now. You…your generation…they weren’t supposed to fight. That was _our_ job. So just…let’s split the difference, okay? Stop it with the stupid heroics. Stop trying to save the day. Be smart about how you fight and leave the self-sacrificial bullshit to the people who are ready to die anyway. Okay?”

Wash shook his head. “That’s not how it works. Maine and I joined–”

Arizona cut him off with a hug. Well, hug wasn’t really the right word. It was a protective embrace, one that she quickly pulled Maine into as well. She understood why Wisconsin had gone after North, despite knowing that North could look after himself. She understood, because she would do the exact same thing for these two dorks. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she muttered into Maine’s shoulder. “So stop arguing with me and pretend that you listened for just a few minutes.”

“Now who’s the mother hen?” Wash chuckled, but he returned the hug, and they stayed that way for more than a few minutes.

* * *

 

Alpha was exhausted.

Arizona’s little stunt earlier had relied so heavily on Passion, Alpha had been momentarily in danger of being overridden. He had been trying to fight the aspect while still relaying communication. It was always a little more difficult with Passion, but this was an entirely new level. It was also very much Arizona. Alpha’s influence on her personality hadn’t shown in even the slightest.

But he had figured something out. Zo saw Wash and Maine as her family. Perhaps even a few of the other Freelancers, but those two in particular. Her protectiveness, her honesty, was almost maternal. Almost. More like a mixture of ‘mom’ and ‘sister.’ Like she knew she couldn’t be either, _shouldn’t_ be either, but couldn’t help but feel protective and caring all the same.

And that was a feeling Alpha was very familiar with.

All he needed to do was think about Carolina. It was the same feeling for him. Carolina _wasn’t_ his daughter, and he _knew_ that, but he couldn’t help but feel some sort of strange mix of fraternal and paternal love for her. It made sense. He was a copy of her father, after all. But more importantly, the emotions, that portion of his personality, matched Arizona’s.

And matching, it seemed, was the missing puzzle piece he had been struggling to find. Because the moment he was able to compartmentalize, to dig into his own coding and find the portions that were mimicking those emotions, he was able to pull them into a unit and lay them over Passion. Rather than trying to understand and relay communication from Passion directly, he let Arizona’s aspect talk to his own fragment, and his own fragment talked to him.

He tried a similar technique later, when Arizona was confronted by South in the mess hall over something Alpha didn’t bother paying attention to. What he _did_ pay attention to was the way Aggression pushed forward, eager to throw South through a table. Again, he examined Arizona’s emotions, and found the matching coding within himself. He pulled it forward, molded it into a second, mini-Alpha, and laid it over Aggression. When South finally left, he pulled the fragmented coding back into himself.

Discontent was a little more difficult because she was as multifaceted as Passion, but unlike Passion, she was able to show much more of herself at any given time. Alpha created two separate miniature entities, one based on ambition and one based on deceit, and gently layered them over Discontent. He thought about adding a third level of creativity, but decided against it. He didn’t want to pull _too_ much coding out of his core personality at once.

By the end of the day, Alpha had successfully rearranged his coding into dozens of emotional ‘packets,’ any one of which he could fragment off himself and use to talk to one of Arizona’s aspects. The experimentation and rearranging were exhausting. Maybe even a little reckless, he knew, considering what had happened to Leo. But Alpha was stronger. Alpha could take it.

Alpha wouldn’t fragment irreparably.


	3. Secret Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one. For some reason I was really struggling to write this chapter. I think I forgot how to write potentially happy scenes :)
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated. Thank you so much to those of you who have left kudos and are sticking with me through this journey!

Agent Arizona looked down at the data chip in her hand, which had been carefully planted on the underside of her dinner tray by C.T. It had taken more effort than it should have not to arouse any suspicion as she left her friends in the mess hall, but time was of the essence. Every hour lost made her mission more difficult. There was still no ETA on when they would leave the docking station on Harvest. She had to move quickly.

She dodged Carolina, who was finally leaving her myriad of duties to briefly visit the mess hall, but the team leader seemed lost in thought. Just as well. The less Carolina knew about Arizona’s mission, the better. The number of protocols she would have to break, the levels of security she would have to skirt…no need to drag anyone else into danger.

_Alpha, are we clear?_

‘ _Clear,’_ he responded, and she quietly slipped down the maintenance corridor. She couldn’t risk reviewing the information in her room. Too likely a certain Freelancer would find her there. No, she needed secrecy. The garden Florida kept under the nose of the Director seemed like an appropriate spot.

Only once she had keyed in the password and entered the protected space did she clip the data chip into the port in her helmet. She quickly scanned through the lists C.T. had provided for her, no doubt after hours of recon and hundreds of false promises.

_‘Shit,’_ Alpha said appreciatively as he examined the data chip himself. _‘This is going to be quite the project. You sure we’re up for this?’_

_We’re up for it._

_‘If the Director –’_

_He won’t find out_ , Arizona cut him off. An impressive feat, considering they shared a head. _Alpha. I forbid you to tell him anything._

_‘Arizona…’_ Alpha seemed a little uncomfortable. Not with the secrecy, she knew; he was incredibly adept at keeping secrets and weaving threads of truth into intricate webs of lies. ‘ _I’m a computer program. If he uses the override codes, I won’t have a choice.’_

_Then I won’t give him any reason to be suspicious._ She looked through the list again, beginning to formulate her plans. C.T. required a number of supplies for the mission, most of which were difficult to come by. Normally, a task such as this would be more of Wyoming’s forte, but the Director no doubt already had Wyoming under surveillance. The last time C.T. trusted Wyoming with such an important job, he had blown his cover with an idiotic joke. He was lucky he hadn’t been very directly involved; the punishment would have been far harsher otherwise.

But Arizona was already deep into the scheme. She had helped C.T. mastermind a good portion of it, had scouted crew members and made contact with those likely to be sympathetic to their cause. After seeing the personnel records and witnessing just how little the Director cared for his most important agents, she had decided to take things into her own hands, and C.T. had been all too happy to help.

She jumped as the door hissed open, hand flying toward her pistol. But it was just Florida, with C.T. standing close behind. Florida gave her a cheerful little wave as they entered. _‘Oh, come on, give me some freaking credit. I would have warned you if we were in danger,’_ Alpha chided, clearly offended by her lack of faith.

_Habit. Besides, you tend to inform me of things about five seconds too late for me to do anything. You’re a terrible lookout._

_‘Bitch.’_

_Asshole._ But she couldn’t help smile a little, and judging by the warm feeling flooding across their connection, Alpha felt the same way. Even if he couldn’t project himself with others in the room.

“You have a chance to look over the info?” C.T. asked once the door was closed again. Arizona nodded. “And?”

“Some of the supplies will be difficult, but I should be able to get everything,” she replied.

“Good,” C.T. responded. “The suppliers I know are on that data chip. Try contacting them first; the channels I gave you are encrypted. F.I.L.S.S. won’t be able to detect any transmissions from them.”

Arizona nodded in understanding. “I can gather all the supplies and get them onto the ship, but C.T., I won’t be able to hide them for long.”

“That’s where I come in,” Florida said happily. “You get the supplies to the drop site and I will take care of it from there.”

Arizona looked a little surprised. “You sure?”

Florida grinned widely. “My dear, you don’t really think Reggie runs his operations alone, do you?”

_‘Well, I mean, if there’s anyone to trust with a secret it’s probably Florida.’_

_True._ “Alright.” She looked between both of them. “This is going to be big,” she said. A reminder to C.T., but possibly new information for Florida. “The entire crew is going to be affected, and if anything goes wrong the Director will have our heads.” She paused, thinking. “Actually, he’ll probably have our heads even if everything goes right.” She shook her head. “Are you both sure you want to go through with this?”

“Yes,” C.T. said without hesitation. Florida gave a double thumbs-up.

“Even after New Harmony?”

“Especially after New Harmony,” C.T. replied. Her voice took on a slightly darker tone. “It’s become pretty damn clear what the Director is and isn’t willing to do for us. We need to do this. For our team.”

Arizona bit her lip. “For our team,” she repeated softly. “C.T., you still able to organize the crew?”

C.T. nodded. “But I may need a little more time. Wash has been asking questions.”

_Shit._ “We have our deadline. If you won’t be able to meet it, tell us. We’ll figure something out.” C.T. nodded her understanding.

_‘We should get moving,’_ Alpha reminded her. _‘This shit isn’t gonna smuggle itself.’_

* * *

 

Washington wasn’t stupid.

Yeah, sure, he could be a little naïve. He could be silly and playful and very much the ‘rookie.’ He realized that.

But he also was in the program for a reason. It wasn’t just a matter of marksmanship. Because although Wash wasn’t the best of the best in any field, he was capable in all of them. Versatile. Able to adapt to whatever roll he needed to fulfill, be it defense to hacking. Hell, he’d even fooled the UNSC about his age by hacking the recruitment station’s computers and entered the military when he was seventeen, rather than the required nineteen.

And all of it was about attention to detail. Watching people, understanding what made them work, what shut them down. Learning their tells, learning which tilt of the helmet was honest amusement, which was faked, which was anger or fear or confusion. Which interactions were forced, and which were honest.

Which is why he knew, for certain, that something was off amongst the Freelancers.

It started with Connie and Florida. The two never really got along that well. Connie always seemed suspicious of Florida – okay, well, _more_ suspicious than the average Freelancer – and Florida always acted like she was right to be. By all rights, Florida _should_ have trained both her and Wash in knife fighting, but somewhere along the line it ended up falling into the hands of Rhode Island instead, who was both less experienced and less available.

But now, Connie and Florida had actually been _talking_ to one another. Not for long, by any means; just a quick conversation in the lunch line or idle chatter near the coffee. But the fact that Connie acknowledged Florida’s existence in something resembling a friendly manner was different enough to take notice.

Then there was Wyoming. In contrast to Connie, he had been distinctly _lacking_ in interactions with Florida. They were still plenty friendly with one another, as far as Wash could tell. They just didn’t seem to be making any effort to coordinate their schedules. It was a common practice among friends, especially those with differing specialties; North and York often had meals at odd times just so they could see one another, and Wash and Connie tried to line up optional knife practice. But Florida and Wyoming didn’t appear to be doing that anymore.

And the next thing Wash knew, Zo was disappearing for days on end, only to reappear at the _pilot’s_ table. And holy hell, if the Freelancers were exclusive and cliquish, the pilots were on freaking prison lockdown. _No one_ entered their circle who wasn’t a pilot. Not even just a pilot, they specifically had to be a fighter pilot. And Wash knew Zo couldn’t fly anything quite well enough to be considered a pilot.

Something was going on. Zo had said the team was reeling. Unraveling.

What did that mean?

“Good morning boys!” rang a familiar voice across the mess hall. Wash leaned back to peak around a still half-asleep Maine to see Florida hopping toward them. Arizona was just behind, absorbed in her datapad. Florida helped himself to the seat next to York and set his tray down happily. Arizona sat beside him with much less enthusiasm, throwing them all a quick smile before looking back down at her work. “Seems like it’s been forever since we’ve chatted! How has everyone been?”

“Yeah,” Wash said, looking more at Zo than at Florida. “It has been a while.”

Florida didn’t miss the glance. “Oh, don’t blame dear Arizona. She’s been keeping me good company for a few very _special_ assignments.”

“Um.” Wash glanced at Maine, who didn’t appear to have heard Florida. He was staring blearily at his coffee, oblivious to all else in the world. Deciding that it was just another case of Florida choosing the most uncomfortable way of getting his point across, Wash nodded. “Right. Anyway. Uh. Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Florida said, leaning forward with a concerned expression. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Wash spluttered. “I…I, uh…” he flailed, looking around the table for help. Maine was still lost in his own world, and York was leaning back and silently laughing his ass off. _Jerks._

“You make everyone uncomfortable,” Zo said absentmindedly, waving a hand in Florida’s general direction.

Florida just grinned in response, which kind of proved Zo’s point. _Ignore it,_ Washington decided. “So. Zo. I was trying to find you the other day.”

“Yeah?” she asked, still looking down. She casually stole the yogurt from Florida’s tray. Casual theft, Wash had decided, was kind of Zo’s thing.

He swallowed. “Yeah. Checked in medical, but they said you got transferred to the dorms.”

York rolled his eyes. “They’re called barracks, Wash. We’re not some college frat.”

“Well, they look a lot more like dorms than barracks!” Wash said in defense. He scowled. “Anyway. So that’s cool. New implant must be working then.”

“Yup.”

“Since you don’t have to sleep in medical anymore.”

“Uh huh.”

“So…you know. Can’t find you in medical anymore.”

Arizona finally looked up. “Are you having a stroke or something? Yes, Wash, I have been cleared from medical.”

York leaned forward to look at Arizona around Florida. “He’s trying to ask where you sleep now, but he’s too socially awkward to figure out how to say it without sounding weird.”

“Hey!”

“Oh,” Zo replied. She looked back down at her datapad, apparently deciding the topic was not nearly as interesting as Wash having a stroke and therefore did not deserve her full attention. “I’ve been sleeping with Florida.”

Apparently Maine _was_ awake and listening to the conversation, because he spat half a mug of coffee out at York. _“WHAT?”_

Arizona looked up at Maine, Wash, and York’s shocked expressions. Florida was still just sitting there, smiling pleasantly at anyone who walked by. “What? I’ve – OH. Oh, god, not like that!” She put her datapad down and held her hands up defensively. “Just…just sleeping. Literally just sleeping. In the same room. That’s _it._ Not…ew. That’s gross.”

“Sitting right here!” Florida sang.

“They roomed you together?” York asked. Wash and Maine continued to stare at Arizona. Wash was kind of glad York had retained the ability to speak, because a series of unbidden mental images had just rendered Washington temporarily mute. And scarred. Very scarred.

“No, no!” Arizona was practically tripping over her words in her haste to explain. “He doesn’t have a roommate, so I’ve just been sleeping in the extra bed.”

“Okay, I can understand why Florida doesn’t have a roommate, considering what happened to Oregon–”

“No one can prove anything,” Florida interjected, happily pointing his spoon at York in a way that suggested he could use it to murder York on the spot.

“But that still doesn’t explain why you chose to sleep there, of all places,” York continued, unperturbed.

“Because I got assigned to room with Delaware,” Zo said, voice low.

_Oh._

“Oh,” York muttered. “So…Georgia…?”

“Every night.” Zo put her head in her hands, grabbing at the roots of her hair. “For the number of degrees the Counselor has, he’s shit at actual counseling. Poor guy doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He just…he usually just wants to be left alone.”

“Wouldn’t it…be better if he wasn’t there?” Wash suggested. “I mean, he has to let her go at some point.”

Arizona leveled him with a stare that dug straight into his heart. “He watched her get _decapitated,_ Wash,” she said lowly. “And then _I_ dragged him away from her body. I’m not dragging him away from anything else.” She stood and left.

“You ever notice how every time you open your mouth, you make things worse?” York asked.

Wash looked down guiltily at his plate. “Sorry,” he muttered. No one said anything else. He sighed inwardly. _Happy birthday, Agent Washington,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

 

_‘Well,_ that _was fun.’_

_Not in the mood._

_‘Yeah, I can tell. Last shipment came in, by the way.’_

She perked up a little at that. _Good. I wasn’t sure if it would get here in time. When are you supposed to meet with the Director?_

_‘Uh, about three minutes ago.’_

_Alpha!_

_‘What? He’s not even in his office yet, F.I.L.S.S. is tracking him for me. Relax, Christ.’_

_And I don’t need to go with you, right?_

_‘Nope. Just gotta keep your helmet close and your radio on.’_

_Got it._ She pinged the rest of the team. It was time to complete their mission. Weeks of planning, acquiring resources, bribing and scheming and negotiating had all led up to today. _How long can you keep him busy?_

_‘With all the shit I actually have to report? Three hours. Maybe four. I can mess with his schedule a little if you need more time.’_

_I don’t think we’ll need more than five. But maybe set up supervised session with Carolina and Wash. Keep all three of them out of the way for a while._

_‘Yeah, okay. Let’s kill Wash before we can bring him down. Good plan.’_

_It’s a great plan, I agree._

_‘Woah, woah, I said good. Don’t go putting words in my processors. Anyway. Session is set. Heh. Wash isn’t happy.’_

_He’ll be fine._

_‘Eh, probably. Anyway, big boss man is almost in, gotta go! Don’t fuck this up!’_ And with that, his presence all but disappeared from her conscious, leaving only a trace whisper. Her mind felt almost empty without him. Even when he had an entire chip to fall back on, he ended up using so many of her own neurons that she sometimes forgot what it was like to have them to herself. He was a very…demanding AI.

Arizona headed down to the hanger bay, keeping an eye on her messaging system in her HUD. C.T. was already in the hanger, presumably organizing the pilots. Florida would be down in about an hour with the rest of their supplies. He couldn’t leave the table directly after Arizona; it might arouse suspicion, especially with Washington there. Kid saw too much for his own good. Luckily, both Maine and York had been recruited to their cause and agreed to keep an eye on Wash and Carolina, respectively. The other Freelancers had no reason to be in the hanger bay, and it was risky to inform anyone who wasn’t directly involved of their plans, so they would just have to hope no one stumbled in on them.

“About freaking time you got here,” Arizona was greeted as she opened the doors to the hanger bay.

“Niner,” she responded, giving a small wave. “Nice to see you as always.”

“Yeah, yeah. So listen, I’ve got Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Fucking Idiot setting up,” she said, jabbing a thumb toward two exhausted-looking assistants struggling to push loaded supply crates off the Pelicans where they had been secretly stored for the last week, “but I need to know what’s in those crates before I let anyone fire up their engines. No flammable shit, right?”

“Why would it matter?” Arizona asked, genuinely curious. “The casing would be more than enough–”

“If I have learned _anything_ about you Freelancers,” Niner said, cutting her off, “it’s that no amount of protection is ever enough. Ever. Even when it defies physics itself.”

_Okay, yeah, I have to give her that one._ “Florida has all the most dangerous supplies stashed somewhere else. Most of the stuff in here is electronics and food.” She winced as the Tweedles lost their grip on a crate and sent it tumbling heavily down the ramp. “ _Was_ food,” she muttered as Niner stormed toward them, clearly looking for blood. Arizona decided that was probably a good cue for her to find a corner and hide.

“Hey,” C.T. said as Arizona approached her. She was hunched over one of the computer terminals along the wall, cataloging their supplies and directing where they should all go. “Any trouble up top?”

“Nope. Looks like the Director is in a meeting for a couple hours, too. My guess is the Counselor will be with him, so we should be in the clear.”

C.T. glanced at her, impressed. “How did you manage that?”

“Who said it was me?” When C.T. continued to stare, Arizona shrugged. “Okay. So I know some tricks. But I can’t pull this kind of shit all the time, so don’t get any ideas.”

C.T. chuckled. “Whatever you say. You’re still good for the airlocks?”

“Yup.” Arizona logged on to the nearest control panel. They needed to make sure the airlocks wouldn’t accidentally open once they had everyone in the hanger bay. Alpha had already walked her through exactly how to change the programming to put the airlocks directly under his control. Then, not trusting her, he had uploaded a personalized tutorial to her HUD. It helpfully started with a long list of the ways she could potentially ‘fuck us all to hell and back.’ _Personalized indeed. Little asshole._

But, as it turned out, being made of numbers meant Alpha knew what he was doing, and she had the airlock controls reprogrammed fairly quickly. Too quickly. So quickly, she got roped into pushing crates while they waited for Florida.

Who was late. The pilots had already moved all the aircraft toward the edges of the hanger bay to leave the center even more open than usual and the cooks they had roped into their schemes had arrived to start their work by the time he showed up. Empty-handed.

“What the fuck, Florida?” C.T. demanded. “You were supposed to bring–”

“Reggie is taking care of it,” Florida responded, unconcerned. He looked around the hanger bay, ignoring C.T. “Wow. What a fantastic job you girls have done. I am simply blown away.”

C.T. glanced at Arizona. A little text popped up in the corner of her visor. **_Is he being sarcastic? Can never tell._**

Arizona shook her head. It _was,_ admittedly, sometimes difficult to tell if Florida was being genuine. But she had spent enough time with him lately to finally get a good read on his…unique way of communicating. “Well get your jaw off the floor and start helping,” she said, tossing Florida a tool belt. “We have about three more hours.”

And they spent those three hours working at a nearly frenzied pace. There was so much to set up, so many supplies to put in just the right place and programs to double-check. It took Wyoming longer than anticipated to smuggle his supplies down to the hanger bay, and he wasn’t able to recruit much help so he had to make several trips. A few times, something would go wrong, and Arizona would think that that was it, there was no way they would finish in time, they would be discovered for certain. Alpha reappeared in her consciousness a few times to check on their progress and report on the location of the Director before slipping away again. Each time he left her, she felt muddled for several minutes.

By the time they were finished, everyone was exhausted. Arizona lay shamelessly on the floor, observing their hard work from an unconventional angle. Okay. Everything looked good. She sat up as crew members started filing in, talking to one another in excited voices as they casually took up their positions.

_Alpha!_ She called, tugging at what was left of him in her mind to get his attention. It took her several attempts, but eventually he popped up.

_‘Yeah, huh? What’s up?’_

_We’re ready._

She could feel him trying to look around, so she surveyed the area for him. _‘Damn. You guys actually did a pretty good job. Good timing, too. Director is back in his office, Carolina and Wash should be getting out of the locker room right about now…yeah, Carolina is out. Looks like York is intercepting her. Maine is on stand-by.’_

_Perfect. Go ahead and send the all-clear. Get the rest of the crew in._

_‘Already done.’_

_Thanks._ She pulled up her private frequency for Maine. **_Ten minutes, then bring him in._**

She waited for a moment before Maine responded, **_got it._**

“Okay, places everyone! Make some room, we’re gonna be a little packed,” she called out to the crowd. They had chosen the hanger bay because it was the only place with enough space for this little operation, but it was still going to be tight.

_‘Target inbound,’_ Alpha told her once people had finally stopped filing in.

_Okay. Dim the lights, put the counter up._ The lights immediately dimmed to about quarter-strength, and a bright ‘10’ appeared on the screen directly above the main doors into the hanger bay. The crowd shuffled around so they were facing the screen. After a moment, the ‘10’ started counting down.

Maine turned on his radio so Arizona could listen as the countdown went from 8 to 7. _“…and then we have a stupid surprise session and it’s just me and Carolina, so of_ course _I got my ass handed to me, and…wait, where are you…?”_

2…1…

The doors opened and the lights flashed bright as nearly the entire crew of the _Mother of Invention_ shouted “Happy Birthday, Agent Washington!”

Wash’s face was priceless. _Mission accomplished._


	4. Liquid Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I know I fell off the face of the earth for a little while there, but I have managed to reenter the atmosphere and have a new chapter ready for ya'll. Hopefully the wait was worth it.

Washington wasn’t so green as to think that this party was really for him.

It was for morale. He _knew_ that. After New Harmony, after the terrible losses and the weeks of recovery, the Director must have noticed how poorly his team was doing. They needed an excuse for something fun to bring the team back together. Not just the Freelancers; everyone on the _MoI_ needed time to relax. Wash’s birthday just happened to be at a convenient time.

Nevertheless, it was difficult not to feel special when he walked into the hanger bay and what must have been over half the ship was waiting for him, or when a huge holographic banner flashed ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY WASH’ on the ceiling, or when Maine clapped his shoulder so hard he stumbled and was caught by Connie and Florida while Zo laughed her ass off.

“I think we broke him,” Connie said as she helped Wash straighten himself, his jaw still somewhere near the floor.

“What…how…?” Though not exactly eloquently communicated, Wash thought it was a fair question. Setting up the scene before him couldn’t have been a small endeavor. Someone had set up quality speakers, not the tinny standard ones in the walls, and music was blaring out of them. Tables or crates acting as tables lined most of the hanger bay, placed neatly in front of the aircraft and stacked high with food, alcohol, cakes, and…swirly straws. Okay, maybe the party _was_ for him.

“Yup,” Zo agreed. “Definitely broken.” She turned her head slightly and spoke into her radio. She and Florida were still in full body armor, including their helmets. “Okay, York. Bring ‘em in.”

“How…this must have taken so much work,” Wash said, brain finally engaging enough to form actual sentences. _Small victories, Wash._ “How did you get the Director to approve all of this?”

Zo and Florida glanced at one another as Connie grinned wickedly. “He didn’t,” she said, and Wash could swear she was _beaming._

“He…then how…?”

“Yeah, so, I stacked his schedule with a bunch of external meetings and shit today, but he miiiiight still find out,” Zo said. _Stacked his schedule? How did she manage that?_ “If he does, this was all Florida’s idea.”

Wash blinked. “Um…was it not?” This seemed like a very Florida-ish thing to do. Morale and team-building and whatnot. But going behind the Director’s back? That seemed…a little wrong. Then again, Wash supposed it wasn’t exactly disobedience. Just…avoiding disapproval by not seeking approval in the first place.

Connie snorted. “Nope. That honor goes to our residential criminal,” she said, pointing her thumb toward Arizona.

“Petty thief,” Zo corrected her. She looked over Wash’s shoulder as the doors opened. “Hey, you got the whole crew in one go!”

Wash turned and peered around Maine to see the rest of the Freelancers entering, along with a few more crew members. The crew happily piped “Happy Birthday!” then ran off toward the makeshift bar. Wash still felt warm and fuzzy at the acknowledgment, however trivial it may seem.

“What the fuck?” York exclaimed, thoroughly ruining the warm and fuzzy mood. “You told me we were having a small get-together for him!” North danced around York to give Wash a one-arm squeeze, and South gave him a finger-gun before grabbing Utah and Georgia and heading straight for the bar.

“I lied,” Zo said, shrugging.

“You should have told me! I would have helped!”

“You would have blabbed.”

“The whole damn ship is here!”

“And the whole damn ship can keep a secret better than you can,” Zo responded calmly. Wash and North exchanged a glance, grinning. Maine chuckled quietly behind them.

The door opened once more, and Carolina walked in. She froze in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene, before walking forward purposefully. “York,” she said, voice dangerously low. “Is this what you’ve been hiding from me?”

York immediately entered defense mode. “It wasn’t me! I had no idea! It was all her!”

Zo held her hands up innocently. “Florida’s idea.”

Florida crossed his arms. “Now, Arizona, I never agreed to be a scapegoat for every single authority figure. I think you need to learn to take responsibility for your actions. It will help us learn to trust each other.”

Carolina crossed her arms, glancing between them. Even out of armor, she managed to look plenty scary. “Let me get this straight. You organized this gathering, of your own volition, took advantage of the trust of your teammates to coerce them into using their skills to aid you, utilized military property outside of approved directives, all without notifying myself or the Director?”

Arizona tilted her head. “I mean, when you say it like _that…_ ”

“Well, then.” Carolina plucked a bottle of whiskey out of the bag at her hip and handed it to Wash. “I thought I was taking a risk giving you this, but it appears our teammates have come up with a particularly creative practice run for subterfuge and supply acquisition missions.” Her lips cracked a small smile. “Happy birthday, Wash,” she said, ruffling his hair. She took York’s hand and dragged him into the crowd without another word.

They watched her go in stunned silence. “Did…did Carolina just…?” Wash stuttered.

“Ha!” Arizona crackled, recovering first. “Creative practice run…could have taken some of the credit, Florida.” She turned to Wash as Florida put a hand to his visor in exasperation. “Okay, kiddo, didn’t throw this party so you could imitate a suffocating fish at the door all night. Let’s hit the bar.” She turned to guide them through the crowd, but paused. “Oh. Wait. Shit. Are you old enough to drink?”

Washington spluttered.

* * *

 

Despite York’s protests to Carolina that he knew nothing of the plan, the entire team seemed to have anticipated a party of some type. Or, at least, they all appeared prepared, gifts included. North made a valiant effort to bring the entire team together for Wash to open his presents, but he waited for more than five minutes after they found the bar, so it was too late.

Luckily, someone (Wash suspected Zo or Niner from the choice of vocabulary) had set up a table specifically labeled “shit to give to Wash.” After nearly half an hour of trying to corral his team while Wash and Maine watched from the sidelines, North finally gave up and simply asked Wash to tell him before he started opening anything.

“So, I don’t know what this is called on Earth,” Zo said, appearing next to him _way_ too quietly for someone wearing power armor, “but in my old unit, we always called it Visor Spit.”

“Um.” Wash turned to her. She was holding a drink out to him. Which he knew he probably shouldn’t take; he had watched her down half a bottle of whiskey in one sitting earlier in a contest with Wyoming, and she didn’t appear any worse for wear because of it, so the concoction was probably purified jet fuel. “What?”

“Visor Spit,” she repeated. “Because when you spit on your visor it makes your field of vision fuzzy. Kind of like when you get drunk.” She paused. “We were a very clever unit. Obviously.”

“Yes. Spartans are known for their sense of humor,” Wash said dryly as Maine took the drink instead and gave it a sip. His eyebrows shot up, and he cocked his head slightly at Arizona.

“Vodka, gin, rum, curacao, tequila, and some cherry shit from Onyx.” _Yup. Jet fuel._

“While I appreciate your efforts to poison me on my birthday,” Wash said as Maine tipped the cup back and downed half the concoction from hell in one go, “I think I’ll stick with beer.”

Zo shrugged as she looked around. “Your loss. Hey, you want to open any of these?” she asked, jabbing a thumb toward the pile of gifts behind them.

“Well, North was trying to get everyone together first,” he replied hesitantly.

Zo waved a hand dismissively. “By asking them? Fuck that. One sec.” She turned away from them slightly and looked down, messing with something on the side of her helmet. A moment later, the holographic banner that read _‘Happy Birthday, Wash!’_ changed to _‘Wash is opening presents in 5:00.’_ As he watched, the _5:00_ started counting down. Zo nodded in approval.

“How did you do that?”

“Florida and I are in charge of the controls. Got it all programed into the helmets for tonight,” she responded, tapping on the side of her helmet. “It’s why we’re in armor.”

“Oh.” That made sense. “Thought it was just an intimidation technique.”

“I think the best way for Florida to intimidate people is for them to see him with his helmet _off,_ ” Zo replied, scanning the crowd. Most of the Freelancers and a few of the other crew members slowly emerged and gathered around the gift table, which was as out of the way as possible in the cramped space. Wash wanted to wait for a few more minutes after the timer on the overhead banner reached zero, but Carolina, who had been among the first to appear, shook her head.

“They have to learn to be on time. Start unwrapping.”

‘Unwrapping’ may have been a generous term, Wash thought, considering the way the presents were ‘wrapped’ in the first place. Decorative paper clearly wasn’t among the various party supplies his friends had somehow procured; most of the presents were wrapped with old leather ammo belts, worn out clothing, or used candy wrappers. Some just weren’t wrapped. _Guess you make do._

Most of the presents were useful or predictable. Connie got him a new set of throwing knives; York gave him a holographic puzzle designed to help train locksmiths; Utah got him a new skateboard; South gave him a new box of straws. Florida gave him a tiny chip to add to his access card and claimed it worked on all the maintenance routes. Wash wasn’t entirely sure the chip was Florida’s to give away, but if he had to choose between pissing off Florida or pissing off a maintenance crewmember, he thought his chances were a lot better with the latter, so he accepted the ‘gift’ as gracefully as possible.

An hour later, everything on the table had been unwrapped, examined, and about half of it was already ‘borrowed’ by his teammates. Wash leaned against the edge of the table, grinning. This was nice. He felt peaceful. Like he belonged.

He was so busy basking in his internal glow that he didn’t immediately notice when Maine silently held out a small box. South, ever helpful, remedied the situation by bruising his ribcage with her elbow and pointing. “Ow! Oh. Sorry. Thanks, Maine.” He took the box. It was actually wrapped, with real paper, and was about the size of his fist. He carefully peeled the paper away, trying not to tear it; paper could be a difficult commodity to come by. He lifted the lid off the box, peered inside, and burst out laughing.

“What?” South asked, leaning forward to see. Wash instinctively pulled the box away. The other Freelancers looked at him, curious. “What? Let me see!” South snatched the box out of his hand, ignoring Wash’s stammering protests. “The fuck?” She lifted the gift.

“A…rubber duck?” York asked, cocking his head to the side as if he wasn’t sure if his eyes were working properly.

Wash grinned. “Yeah.”

“Okaaaaay…”

“It was a thing from basic,” Wash said, realizing that without an explanation, his so-called friends were going to come up with the worst possible reasons for why Maine would give Wash a rubber duck. “We had a couple of cats that would always come and hang out with us–”

“With you,” Maine interjected. Wash shrugged.

“Anyway, they brought us this old rubber duck. They both loved that thing. We could hide it around the base and they would go find it. Ari and Skylar,” he said, leaning back and fondly remembering the cats. They were much nicer than the duo he had left at home.

“Oh my god,” South said, tossing the duck back to Wash as though it were contaminated. “You are such a dork. You know that, right? Like, you realize how much of an utter dork you are?”

“South…” North muttered, though without any heat.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Wash told them dryly. “I’ve been informed.” He cast a meaningful glance toward Zo, who just shrugged.

“Hey, wait a second,” South said. She pointed accusingly toward Zo. “Where’s your present?”

Zo stared at her through the expressionless visor. “Seriously?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious! If you get out of giving out little dweeb a present, then I want my straws back!”

“The true spirit of gift-giving,” Carolina muttered.

Zo gestured around them. “This is his present. The party. This shit isn’t free, you know.”

Wash looked at her. “You…wait, did you fund this whole thing? This has to be…”

Zo waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it. I had about ten years of special ops pay sitting in my accounts. Figured this was a good way to dust it off.”

“Holy shit. Arizona, that’s way too much money to spend on me!”

She crossed her arms. “I said don’t worry about it. Now go enjoy yourself, or I’m gonna make you drink the Visor Spit.”

North choked. “Drink what?”

* * *

 

Arizona made him drink the Visor Spit.

Shortly after he had finished, she was sort of wishing she hadn’t.

“I’m not good enough,” Wash huffed, sitting down at the edge of the hanger bay and looking absolutely like a kicked puppy.

“That’s bullshit,” Zo replied sharply. She had never guessed Wash would be a mopey drunk. ‘ _He’s a lonely kid, what did you expect?’_

_I don’t know, maybe some freaking confidence? It’s called liquid courage for a reason._

_‘Yeah, for a single shot! You gave him about six!’_

_The fuck do you know about it, anyway? You’re an AI._

_‘That just means I know way more than you about everything.’_

_Just change the music._ “Wash,” she said, a little more kindly, “listen. You’re a great kid. Just go over there and ask her for a dance. It will be fine.”

Wash looked up at her, eyes a little bleary. “But s’not…oh.” He frowned as the music faded from a quick-paced dance tune to a slower, more romantic one. “You did that,” he said, pointed accusingly at her.

“I did,” she admitted. Behind Wash, Maine grinned a little.

“I…”

“Okay, you know what? I’m going to show you how easy this is,” she told him. She looked up at Maine. “If he doesn’t come out on the floor, make him.” Maine grinned and gave her a thumbs-up as Wash stammered. _Well, some things don’t change when he’s drunk._

She wandered out onto the floor, scanning for a good victim. _‘Georgia, two o’clock and twenty meters.’_

_I don’t think that’s a good idea._

_‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Utah?’_

_Georgia’s support._

_‘K. Oh, Wyoming, eleven o’clock and ten meters.’_

_Perfect._ Checking over her shoulder to make sure Wash was following (well, he was being half-dragged by Maine, but it still counted), Arizona pushed through the crowd of people coupling up until she reached Wyoming and Florida. She tapped Wyoming on the shoulder. “Care to dance?”

Wyoming looked momentarily surprised, but smiled graciously and handed his drink to Florida. “I would love to, my dear.” He took her hand and guided her out to the dance floor. She flashed a quick thumbs-up to Wash, who shook his head adamantly. “Might I ask what prompted this particular escapade?” Wyoming asked as they started to dance.

“I can’t just want to enjoy a dance with a friend?” Wyoming smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I was trying to encourage Wash to come out here.”

“And dance with Maine?”

Arizona glanced over her shoulder, following Wyoming’s gaze. She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Maine was swinging Wash around with exaggerated gentlemanliness, ignoring Wash’s beet red ears and half-hearted attempts to escape. “They’re a cute couple.”

“Quite,” Wyoming agreed. “But not the couple you had in mind.” Arizona shrugged. “And where is dear Connie, anyway?”

“Starboard side, twenty-two meters,” Arizona told him. Having an AI in her head did sometimes make her seem observant, she supposed.

Wyoming nodded. “I’d wager it takes another four songs before he finds the courage to approach her.”

“I’ll bet you the 0500 training slot it happens in the middle of the third.”

“You have a good deal of confidence in the boy.”

“I got about seven shots in him before we started.”

Wyoming laughed. “Well-played, my dear. Good, then. I believe we have ourselves a deal.”

Neither of them turned out to be right. Less than halfway through the second song, Maine got impatient with Wash, slung him over his shoulder, stomped through the crowd, and deposited his flailing friend directly in front of C.T. He growled something and stalked off, leaving a scarlet Wash standing before an extremely amused Connecticut.

Arizona wished she were close enough to hear their conversation, but she and Wyoming couldn’t steer their way close enough without raising suspicions, and by the time they had gotten within five or so feet of the two youngest Freelancers, Wash and C.T. were dancing. They were doing so awkwardly, trying not to step on each other’s toes and giggling whenever they made a misstep, but Arizona hadn’t seen Wash smile so much in her entire time aboard the _MoI._

“Let’s give the children some space,” Wyoming muttered. Arizona nodded, and they moved back toward Florida.

_‘Hey, Zo,’_ Alpha piped up suddenly. _‘F.I.L.S.S. is reporting an incoming communication I want to check out.’_

_Okay. Head on up,_ she said, but he didn’t jump from her consciousness like he normally did when he wanted to quickly visit a different part of the ship. _Something wrong with the radio?_

_‘No.’_ He sounded worried. _‘Uh, I think we should go to the bridge. Both of us. Physically. I want to scan this one myself.’_

_Alpha, what’s going on?_

_‘Eh, it’s probably nothing. But I want to check for myself. Never know when some fucktard is going to mess up an incoming comm.’_

Arizona didn’t believe that for one second. Something was wrong. Alpha almost _never_ had her go somewhere on the ship unless he needed something physically done. He was more than capable of jumping into the ship’s systems at his leisure, and often did so purely out of boredom. Even worse, going to the bridge substantially increased their chances of running into the Director, who presumably was still unaware of the party in the hanger bay. Alpha knew that. He had to know that.

“Florida, can you hold the fort?” she asked. “I’ve got to run updeck really quick.”

“You betcha!”

“Thanks.” _Okay. So what is in this incoming communication?_

_‘Look, I’ll tell you in a minute, okay?’_ Alpha replied, uncharacteristically snappy. _‘Just get to the bridge.’_

_Okay, okay. Sheesh._ She withdrew a little from their connection points, giving Alpha some space.

She reached the bridge quickly, and Alpha opened the doors for her. As she suspected, the Director was standing by one of the terminals. He looked…worried? His head snapped toward her as she entered. “Good. Alpha, come here,” he said. “I need you to analyze this.” _Hi, Agent Arizona. Thanks for being the transport for my AI._

_‘Quiet, this is important.’_

_Shit, dude, okay. Was just making a joke._

_‘I said quiet!’_

Arizona recoiled. The spark of anger from Alpha had actually stung a little, physically _stung_ , like a quick shock across the implants. She obediently remained mentally silent, approaching the Director. Alpha’s avatar flickered momentarily above the terminal before disappearing once more. They waited.

“Alpha, report,” the Director snapped after a few minutes. Alpha’s hologram appeared, flickering wildly.

“It’s real,” he said, and Arizona could _feel_ his spark of panic. “I’m plotting a course now, but even through slipspace it will take us at least two days to get there.”

The Director swore. “You can’t get us there any faster?”

“Look, two days is the _best_ solution. Just…hang tight. They’ve got a bunch of Spartans there. They’ve got the Chief. They’ll hold.”

Arizona stepped forward. “They? Who’s they? Alpha, _what is going on?”_

The Director and Alpha turned toward her simultaneously. To her surprise, the Director didn’t look upset with her outburst. He looked…scared.

“It’s the Covenant,” Alpha finally answered. “They found Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am physically incapable of writing an entirely happy chapter.


	5. Old Mombasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I played Halo 2, 3 or ODST all the way through and don't remember all the details, so I took some artistic liberties. 
> 
> Also, big thank you to my brother for allowing me to rope him into beta reading! Most of the funny stuff is his.

“MAC is warming.”

“Exiting slipspace in ten seconds, sir!”

“Comms are open.”

“MAC at the ready.”

“Is the Beta program online?”

“Affirmative.”

“Alpha, be ready to analyze a drop pod course.”

“On it. Exiting in three…two…one…”

The _Mother of Invention_ jolted as they exited slipspace directly into a debris field. Pieces of destroyed ships, both human and Covenant, slammed into the _Mother’s_ shields and hull. Arizona grabbed the end of the console to keep herself steady as Alpha redirected power and changed the ship’s course.

“Director, Covenant destroyer dead ahead.”

“Beta, prepare to fire.”

“Hey, I’m on it, okay?”

“Okay, I’ve got most of the variables worked out for a drop.”

The Director turned toward Arizona. “Time to get in your pod, Agent. Alpha will join you when you are ready to jump.”

Arizona nodded and ran off the bridge, engaging her grav boots to help keep her balance as the ship rocked and shook with every hit. The Director had activated the Beta AI program to control the ship’s guns alongside F.I.L.S.S., leaving Alpha free to help the soldiers on the ground. Arizona felt the MAC cannon go off more than she heard it. The force sent her, along with several other nearby crew members, tumbling momentarily to their knees. But they all got up and continued immediately. They had to.

The elevator was out, so Arizona kicked open the doors and grabbed the cable, sliding down to the lowest part of the ship. Paint scraped off her armor from her speed.

“Zo, are you ready?”

Maine was standing at the elevator doors and holding them open, Carolina standing directly behind him. Arizona jumped through the open doors and nodded, heading directly for her marked pod. Wash was already strapped into his. She gave two solid knocks on the front panel as she passed. He knocked back with a little less force. _With less certainty._

_He’s afraid._

_That’s okay._

_We’ll be okay._

She lifted herself into her pod, checked the weapons cache, and closed the door. Maine knocked on the outside of her pod twice, and she returned the knock. It was supposed to bring good luck. Superstition. Nothing more. But it still made her feel better.

Sound didn’t carry through space and Arizona didn’t want to distract Alpha by asking him about the Covenant destroyer that had been directly in their path. They weren’t dead yet, so she assumed Beta had successfully taken out at least the ship’s guns, but if Arizona judged their speed and position correctly they should be crossing paths right–

They all lurched violently forward as something collided with the belly of the ship. _“Everybody hold on!”_ Carolina shouted over their radios as a deep, scraping sound emanated from directly below them. The shields had clearly been compromised; whatever hit the _Mother_ was moving against the hull itself.

And with a sudden _clang_ , the floor of the drop bay was ripped open. The emergency airlocks slammed closed, but Arizona saw at least two techs ripped through the opening and into space. _Shit._

_Alpha._

_‘Holy fuck!’_ She was a little surprised at how immediately he answered. He must have been preparing to reach out to her anyway. _‘Zo, are you okay? Is everyone okay?’_

_We were all in our pods, nobody has disconnected that I can see,_ she told him. _But the techs are dead._

_‘Shit. Okay, I’ll do an override. Just hold on.’_

_Will do._ She didn’t see many other options anyway. The window through her pod was tiny, and with how solidly she was already strapped in, she couldn’t lean forward very well to see. But the glimpse she did get wasn’t encouraging.

She had never seen a naval battle so big. There had to be thirty ships between them and Earth’s surface. A human would never be able to time the jump correctly.

Luckily for them, Alpha wasn’t human.

“Alright, guys,” his voice rang in through the pod’s intercoms at the same time as he fully reentered her consciousness. No one else would recognize it. Not that anybody probably cared exactly who was talking to them at the moment. “Hang on tight. We’re shooting for what’s left of Old Mombasa. Heavy Covenant presence; when you land, start shooting. Nav points are uploaded to your HUD, regroup as soon as you can. We’ll get further instruction as soon as we connect with the Admiral. Dropping in three…two…one…”

Arizona’s grip tightened as the pod lurched forward, propelled toward the planet’s surface by guided rockets. _ALPHA!_ she mentally cried in alarm as they approached a cluster of ships. They were absolutely going to crash, there was no way–

_‘We’ll make it,_ ’ Alpha responded, unusually calm.

_“This is why I didn’t want to join ODST!”_ Wash screeched over the radio as they sped toward the ships, sped right toward the hulls…and past them.

_“Holy shit,”_ York half cried, half laughed. Arizona glanced up. The gap they shot through between the ships had already closed.

_“Prepare to enter atmosphere,”_ Carolina instructed, and less than five seconds later, the ride got considerably bumpier. Arizona gritted her teeth as she looked down. There wasn’t much to see; thick black clouds covered everything, illuminating intermittently with flashes of purple, blue, and orange. They plunged into the clouds, and Arizona lost all visual on her teammates.

Everyone was completely silent as they dropped through the clouds, although Arizona could still hear heavy, controlled breathing if she opened her radio. _We’re okay._ They would be okay. They just had to stick together.

“Release your parachutes,” Alpha commanded over the pod speakers. “Dropping below the clouds now.” They plummeted out of the cloud cover and directly into a field of lasers.

“Shit!”

_“Heavy cover!”_

_“Fuck! Everyone hold on!”_

_“SOUTH!”_

_“Wash, curve left!”_

_“ZO!”_

She saw the laser coming, but she simply didn’t have time to react. It hit her pod and the propeller-like brakes at the top of her pod snapped off, along with her directional thrusters. Alpha projected next to her. “Hold on!”

“Great idea,” she agreed as she grasped the handles at the top of the pod. “Going in hot,” she said over the radio. Oh, this was going to hurt. She could see the ground rushing up to meet her. Well, not quite the ground. Without her thrusters, she was going to go straight through a building.

_“Zo!”_ Wash screamed over the radio.

She plunged through the ceiling and straight down the middle of a six-story complex. The pod slammed into the ground as Alpha locked up her armor. The force of the impact was so great, she snapped the straps holding her in place and crashed into the front of her pod, but she was, incredibly, alive. After a moment, Alpha unlocked her armor.

“Shit,” he said appreciatively. “Didn’t think that would go so well. You okay?”

“I feel okay,” she told him. Although, the truth was that she couldn’t feel much of anything. Her adrenaline was too high. “Hey, give me a bioscan while I figure out how to get out of this thing.”

He flickered out of existence as she looked out the cracked glass. From what she could tell, she had caused a small crater in the basement of the building. Debris littered her field of vision outside the pod, and alarms were going off from every portion of the console still intact. Her radio crackled, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. _Gotta dig myself out to get in range._

“Alpha, status.”

Alpha projected in front of her, arms crossed. “You are, amazingly, okay. No physical damage. Well, nothing serious. You’ll have some bruises but that’s hardly an injury. Now, this,” he continued, turning and gesturing to the debris field above her, “will be more of a problem. Your pod’s release mechanism is jammed up and I can’t–”

She interrupted him by bracing against the back of the pod and kicked the front with both her feet.

“Woah, hey, watch it!” he exclaimed as her legs went through his projection. The door to the pod budged, but didn’t open. So she kicked it again. And again.

On the fifth kick, she felt something snap beneath her boots and the pod door flew forward, pushing some debris out of the way. Arizona yanked her guns out of their locks, hooked the grenades onto her belt, and silently wiggled out of the small opening near the top, digging her way past the pieces of building covering her pod. When she could see daylight, she pulled her pistol out and inched her way out of her prison, scanning the area for Covenant soldiers.

There were none.

That worried her.

She took another moment to check her surroundings, asking Alpha to confirm what she saw. “Yeah, we’re clear,” he told her, still projecting near her shoulder.

“I thought the city was supposed to be overrun,” she muttered softly. “Where the hell are they?”

“Well, maybe uncontrolled rent prices drove them out of the neighborhood,” Alpha hissed sarcastically, although she could sense his worry. “How the fuck should I know?”

“Carolina,” Arizona said into her radio, ignoring him. “Carolina, do you read?”

_“Arizona.”_ Carolina’s voice sounded relieved. _“Are you injured?”_

“Negative,” Arizona replied, still keeping her voice quiet. It wouldn’t transfer well through her helmet with the external mic off, but still…something just didn’t feel right.

_“Oh thank god,”_ someone breathed through the radio, but Arizona couldn’t tell who. It wasn’t Maine, that was all she could be certain of. Her attention wasn’t much on the radio anyway. She pressed against one of the intact walls and carefully peered out the window, searching for any signs of movement.

“South okay?” she asked, still paying more attention to her surroundings. There were certainly signs of a battle; windows were shot out and plasma residue was everywhere.

_“Oh, please. It’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to kill me. Like, bullet to the face might do some damage. Helljumping? Fuck no.”_

_“Can you both make it to us? I’ll update your nav points.”_

“Affirmative,” Arizona said, still distracted. The Mombasas were supposed to be _crawling_ with Covenant, but she couldn’t find _any._ _Alpha, where are they?_

_‘I don’t know.’_

“Do you have eyes on hostiles?” she asked.

There was a pause. _“Negative,”_ Carolina finally responded. _“I don’t know where they are.”_

Arizona moved out of the building slowly, clearing the exit before she did so. The streets were empty. No running Grunts, no Elites dropping from pods, no…

Oh.

“What the hell?” she muttered, moving cautiously forward. “Alpha, these guys alive?”

“Nope,” Alpha said, staying over her shoulder. He must have been as unnerved as she was, because he normally only projected when he was especially bored or lonely.

The crossroads in front of her was filled with bodies, but only a few of them were human. The rest were Brutes and Elites. And it didn’t look like the work of a Spartan company. “So, is it just me, or does it look like these guys were forming up _against_ each other?”

“This isn’t right…” Alpha muttered. He flickered from existence. “I’m gonna see if I can dig up some intel. Just, uh…be careful.”

“Stunning strategic advice, as always,” she murmured back as she crept forward, staying near cover and scanning the tall buildings for snipers. A glint of purple in the second story of a half-collapsed building caught her eye, and she spun toward it, raising her gun.

South held her hands up. Arizona slowly lowered her gun and South jumped down to the ground.

“So this is fucked, right?” she asked as she approached.

Arizona nodded. “Let’s just focus on regrouping for now. I’m sure we’ll run into the Covs soon–”

An explosion of gunfire suddenly erupted from several blocks away. South and Arizona exchanged a glance. “You just had to open your mouth,” South muttered as she jogged toward the commotion, Arizona close behind.

After about fifty yards, South froze and held up her hand for Arizona to stop. Arizona complied, pushing herself back against a wall and scanning the area for hostiles. _Alpha, anything?_

_‘Not in IFF tracker range,’_ he answered.

“South?” she whispered.

South took a few steps backward before she turned and signaled to Arizona to get inside. Both of them pushed through the door to the closest building and pressed against the wall, waiting silently. Before long, a whole platoon of Brutes lumbered by, looking side to side and sniffing. _Oh, fuck._ There was no way she and South would be able to take on all of them. Not without some sort of strategy. Her and Florida, maybe, but she and South just didn’t read one another well enough. _Alpha, tell me there’s something you can do._

_‘I’m disguising your IFF signal so they won’t be able to find you that way,’_ he told her quickly. _‘But there’s nothing I can do about your smell.’_ Arizona silently cursed her new body wash. She’d always preferred to scour herself with soap that had no scent, but Florida had insisted that she should at least smell like a civilized lady, if not act like one. If she died because Florida wanted a roommate that smelled like cherry blossoms, she was going to haunt that fucker into eternity itself.

_Should we move?_

Alpha was silent for a moment. _‘Calculations don’t look great,’_ he admitted. _‘But I think you have a better chance if you stay still.’_

_You think?_

_‘I have no reliable way to measure your scent, so I had to estimate.’_

She bit the inside of her lip as the Brutes grew closer, their hairy arms visible through the windows. She exchanged a glance with South and shook her head. _Stay still. Please, for the love of everything, stay still._

Incredibly, South seemed to get the message. She looked over her shoulder at the window and clutched her rifle, but didn’t move otherwise. One of the Brutes slowly approached the door, sniffing wildly. _Alpha?_

_‘Just stay still.’_

The door opened slightly. The Brute was so tall, its hand was at the top of the doorway. It ducked down to lean through the door. Arizona tensed, getting ready to run.

_‘Got something on the trackers.’_

_Friendlies?_

_‘Negative. But…’_

_But what?_

Before Alpha had time to answer, however, the Brute jumped away from the door and roared, thundering down the street. The rest of the platoon followed, making animalistic noises the entire time. _‘Okay, now go!’_

Arizona motioned to South and they sprinted out the building. She glanced behind her as she ran. A contingency of Elites had emerged and was fighting the Brute squad. _‘I’m searching for communications now,’_ Alpha told her, answering her question before it had time to fully form. _‘Looks like there are some reports of infighting among the Covenant. Some sort of family feud. But there’s no confirmation on who is fighting who, and it looks like everyone is still trying to kill_ us, _so be careful.’_

It didn’t take them too long to find Carolina and the other Freelancers. Despite the fact that both Arizona and South had lost control of their pods, they had done so close enough to the ground that they weren’t too scattered. North saw them first and ran up to them, giving South a quick one-arm hug. “Good, you made it.”

“We saw some Brutes fighting some Elites back there,” Arizona told him as he led them to the rest of the group.

“Yeah, we’ve been hearing some strange stuff,” North told them. “Covs shooting at each other, but still shooting at us…Carolina’s been trying to hail Command but we don’t have any solid info yet.”

_‘That’s because they don’t have any either,’_ Alpha whispered.

“Well, hell, we came here to kill aliens, didn’t we? That hasn’t changed.” Arizona said as they approached the rest of the group. “When something shoots at me, I have a personal policy of shooting back.”

“It’s a good policy to have,” York said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Welcome back. Hey, Wash, what is it for a building shot? Forty points?”

“Fifty,” Wash called back from the other side of what was apparently the Freelancer staging area. He and most of the other Freelancers were keeping guard while C.T. and Carolina messed with some radio equipment in the center. Carolina glanced up at them and nodded, but kept working. “Unless she hit a croc. Then it’s a hundred.”

“Didn’t kill anything, but I did make the landing without any landing gear. Extra points for that?” Arizona asked as she took up position in one of the larger gaps.

“Eh, throw ten extra on there. Why not,” York replied.

“Everyone quiet down,” Carolina called. “ _Mother of Invention,_ do you copy?”

Arizona scanned the area as Carolina reported in to the _Mother_. It was a pain to have to wait around while Carolina chatted it up with the Director, but it was a necessity. She could see the slumped bodies of Jackals in a few windows; it seemed as though her companions had already cleared the area. Her eyes traveled to a cloud of dust puffing up over the buildings, followed shortly by the sound of a Warthog. She frowned.

Moments later, a small fleet of UNSC vehicles came into view, flying down the road and past them. Soldiers jogged alongside, turning occasionally to fire behind them. _‘Looks like a full retreat.’_

_Makes you wonder if we should be going with them._

It seemed Carolina had the same question. She abandoned the radio for a moment to run up and catch one of the fleeing men by the shoulder. “Soldier, what is going on?”

The soldier turned toward her and pointed toward a tall building about half a click away. “Covenant are targeting that area, ma’am. They’re dropping in reinforcements from all over the place, we can’t hold them off.” He took a step back as a Covenant drop ship zoomed overhead. “You should go, too, ma’am,” he told her before taking off after the remnants of his squad.

“Well, boss?” Washington asked.

“One sec, team. I’m calling this one in.” They waited, crouched in a defensive position around Carolina as she once again radioed the _Mother._ “Alright, here’s the deal,” she said after a moment. “There’s an ONI research facility about half a mile under that tower. I don’t know how the Covenant found it, but they did. Our job is to keep them from getting their claws on the research data by any means necessary.”

“Blow it?” North asked.

“Not right away. The data is valuable. Director wants us to try to recover what we can and wipe everything else. So here’s the plan. Arizona, Florida, Wyoming; you’re Team A. I’m sending you to infiltrate the facility and collect whatever data you can. Wipe what you can’t. North, York, C.T.; you’re Team B; you three get inside and start planting explosives. Disrupt whatever Covenant activity you find. Do not let them retrieve the data. The rest of you, you’re with me. We’ll keep the reinforcements at bay for as long as possible. Got it?”

After receiving scattered affirmations of ‘got it’ and ‘sure thing, boss,’ and one grunt as Wash punched Maine on the shoulder and shouted ‘you’re it!’, Carolina nodded. “Good. Command said there have been supply drops throughout the area, so we’re going to have to do some scavenging to get our supplies. Team A, you better get going right away. The rest of you, let’s find some bombs.”

Arizona looked between Florida and Wyoming. “Alright, Waffle Squad. I’ll take point.”

Maine snorted as York cocked his head. “Waffle Squad?”

“Wyoming, Arizona, Florida,” she explained. She frowned. “I guess I like naming our teams after food.”

York chuckled, but before he could say anything, Carolina hissed “move _out.”_

They nodded and Arizona, Florida, and Wyoming started moving toward the tower. Within a few blocks, they started meeting resistance. Arizona moved to kneel behind an overturned car to use as cover, but Florida grabbed her arm and shook his head.

“We don’t need to kill all of them,” Wyoming supplied, as Florida was apparently entering his ‘completely silent during the mission’ state. “Our objective is there.”

_‘He’s right,’_ Alpha said. _‘You won’t be able to get there before the Covenant if you fight your way through. You’re going to have to just run. I’ll give you the clearest path.’_

_Got it. Thanks._ “Right. Follow me, then,” she told her companions.

Alpha lit up a pathway for her, changing it as new he gained new information or as the Covenant forces altered their movement patterns. It was a physically demanding route; Alpha had them climbing partway up buildings, leaping across alleyways, and sprinting across rooftops. But it kept them out of reach of most enemies. The only things shooting at them were Jackal snipers and the occasional Banshee, but Wyoming did a good job of killing the Jackals the moment they were in range, and the aircraft didn’t seem too intent on chasing down three soldiers when there were entire platoons just a kilometer away.

The only problem was that Wyoming was having trouble keeping up. Alpha was laying out a route based on his knowledge of Arizona’s physical abilities, and Florida was almost exactly on par with her. But Wyoming was taller, heavier, and slower. Not unfit by any means, but Arizona and Florida were the team lights. Nearly _everyone_ was taller, heavier, and slower than them. Multiple times they had to pause while Alpha reworked a jump Wyoming couldn’t make or diverted them around rubble that wouldn’t support his weight.

And it was _vital_ that they stay off the streets. Even though she didn’t exactly pause to look, Arizona could still see flashes of fighting below them. Not just humans and Covenant, but Brutes fighting Elites while other Covenant forces conveniently disappeared. She had no interest in getting between the two. Better to stay out of sight.

With Alpha’s guidance, they reached the base of the tower having only spent a few clips, and Alpha pointed out a room with a few dead soldiers and plenty of extra ammo so they could refill before going any further. Wyoming and Florida kept watch while Arizona gathered the supplies. She handed Wyoming a belt full of sniper ammo, tucked several extra grenades to her own belt, and tossed the combat knife to Florida.

_Ooooh. Is that what I think it is?_

_‘Grab it. Could be useful.’_

Wyoming laughed as she hauled herself up to the rooftop. “Arizona, my dear. I believe that gun is approximately as tall as you are.”

“Eh, what can I say,” she asked, shifting the rocket launcher onto her shoulder. “Girls like big shiny toys.”

She considered it a personal success that Florida broke his silent façade to snort.

_‘You might be needing it soon. I’ve got a pretty big cluster just outside the tower. You’re going to have to fight your way in, nothing I can do to get you around them.’_

_No problem._ They moved forward more carefully, Wyoming guarding their six while Arizona and Florida scouted ahead.

Arizona decided Alpha had been underrepresentative with the word ‘cluster.’ ‘Swarm’ may have been more appropriate. ‘Mob,’ ‘army,’ or ‘metric fuckton’ would have been acceptable choices as well.

The entire space around the tower had already been converted into a Covenant base. Supply pods and turrets formed a defensive wall, and enormous Brutes armed with gravity hammers patrolled back and forth. Grunts and Jackals ran around in the background, unpacking supplies and hastily complying with whatever orders the Brutes were growling at them. Their movements were jolted and frightened.

_“No Elites. No Hunters,”_ Florida whispered over the radio. He was laying on the rooftop a few buildings away from her, trying to find a better entrance point.

“Same here,” Arizona confirmed with him. “Guess there _is_ some sort of civil war going on.”

_“See an entrance point?”_

“Yeah. The front door.”

Florida was silent for a moment, so Wyoming spoke next. _“Any ideas for getting inside?”_

_‘Maybe we could just knock,’_ Alpha suggested silently.

_You constantly blow me away with your incredible combat support._

_‘I’d say I aim to please, but that would be a lie.’_

_Hey, how many of these guys could we take out with six rockets?_

_‘One sec.’_ She could feel the implant heat up a little bit as he ran the simulation (or, at least, that’s what she assumed he was doing whenever she asked him such a question. She supposed he could just be jacking off in AI time until he got bored and decided to answer her.) _‘Hey! This shit isn’t easy, you know. Show a little appreciation.’_

_Thank you for not jacking off in my head._

_‘That’s not at all what I meant.’_

_Well? Can we get through?_

He pulled up the data on her HUD. _‘We can. It will be tight; you guys are going to have to really sprint, but there’s a 73% chance all three of you will make it.’_

She hesitated. _Any way to bring that number up?_

_‘Well, if you change the parameters to at least two of you making it, I can get us as high as 87%.’_

Arizona bit the inside of her cheek, thinking. They didn’t have much time. The Covenant could be breaking into the research facility at that very moment. _Ah, fuck it. I’ve been working with worse odds since the day I met you._ “I have an idea,” she said over her radio as she aimed the rocket launcher. “How about a big boom?”


End file.
